Lessons
by mnemosyne23
Summary: Bill helps Fleur "eemproove 'er eenglish," and Fleur helps Bill handle his fears. All in all, an even trade. BillFleur.


**TITLE:** Lessons  
**AUTHOR:** Mnemosyne 

**DISCLAIMER:** Any and all "HP" characters and events are the property of JK Rowling, et al. Any new characters and events are mine. :-D  
**SUMMARY:** Bill helps Fleur _eemprove 'er Eeenglish_, and Fleur helps Bill handle his fears. All in all, an even trade  
**RATING:** PG  
**CODES:** Romance, angst, humor  
**COUPLE(S)**: Bill/Fleur  
**SPOILERS:** HUGE ones for "Order of the Phoenix!"  
**NOTES:**  
I've read _Order of the Phoenix_ oodles of times at this point, and the one thing that stands out, clear as crystal, in my mind is the **BILL/FLEUR 'SHIPPING!** cough Sorry. I go a bit nutters when I think about it. happy sigh All I can say is, after 'shipping the two of them since I first read "GoF," it was like a gift from heaven to have JKR **herself** pairing them up in "OotP." I can only hope we have more in _Half-Blood Prince!_ I'm sure this idea has been explored hundreds of times, but you'll pardon me if I try it myself. ;) Enjoy!

**TIMELINE**: This story takes place approximately a month after "Order of the Phoenix" ends, placing it somewhere in early July, a little over a year after the Triwizard Tournament. :-D

* * *

"What iz 'ZAT?"

Bill Weasley couldn't resist a grin at the scandalized look that suffused Fleur Delacour's beautiful face as she stared at the plate he'd just set in front of her. "THAT is called bangers and mash," he said cheerfully, taking his seat opposite her at the table and resting a napkin across his lap. "Tuck in. You're thin as a rail." Picking up his own knife and fork, he stabbed at a piece of dismembered sausage and popped it in his mouth. After chewing and swallowing the savory bite, he nodded to her. "This'll put meat on your bones."

Fleur poked delicately at the mashed potatoes on her plate, as if afraid they would spring to life at any second. "Zo you… EAT zis?" she asked, with such total disbelief that Bill couldn't resist a laugh. She glared at him across the table, fair skin flushing to a heated pink. "I should be ze one laughing, not you!"

Bill shook his head, still chuckling, and took a sip of pumpkin juice. He had been tutoring Fleur in English for over a year now -- he was more than used to her finickiness when it came to life in general, and food in particular. "Honestly, Fleur. How long have you been in England? And you've never seen bangers and mash?"

"I zuppose I do not attend ze sort of restaurants zat would serve zis sort of… FOOD." She said the last word as if the classification didn't fit what she was prodding with her fork.

"It's just potatoes and sausage, Fleur, with a bit of gravy." He paused, then added with a grin, "It won't bite. Honest."

Fleur gave him another patented Veela glare, but she did surreptitiously put down her fork. "I will jus' 'ave bread, if zat iz okay wiz you?"

Bill rolled his eyes but shrugged. "Be my guest. You know where it is. Help yourself."

Fleur nodded, and daintily folded her napkin on the tabletop as she stood up and crossed his tiny kitchen to fetch a loaf of bread from the cupboard. Bill listened to her getting a plate down from a shelf above the sink, and heard her rattling about with the butter dish. It was odd, really, having this young woman flitting about his kitchen as if she lived here. Initially, their lessons had taken place at Gringotts or one of the surrounding pubs in Diagon Alley. But Bill finally decided it didn't make much sense to keep spending money on lunches or dinners every day of the week when he had perfectly good food sitting in his own flat, going stale and rotting away. Six months previously -- on a particularly bitter February afternoon -- Bill had invited Fleur to his place for their daily lesson, and she'd agreed. They hadn't reverted to the old way ever since.

Fleur sat across from him again, two achingly thin slices of bread and butter on the plate in her hands. Carefully pushing aside the heavy meal he'd given her, she set her own plate down and began nibbling on a corner of her bread.

Bill sighed, swallowed his current mouthful, took another sip of pumpkin juice, and said conversationally, "You know, part of learning the English language is learning what it's like to be English."

"I am quite 'appy being French, _merci beaucoup_."

"Well, if I were in France, wouldn't you be foisting all kinds of snails and frog legs and strange soups on me, to get me to blend in a bit?"

"'Oo said I dezire to blend in?"

"Oh honestly, Fleur, that's not what I mean and you know it." He sighed and set his knife and fork down. "You just look so miserable all the time, Fleur. It's pretty depressing, to be honest, and what with everything else going on in the world at the moment, I don't think I can take being depressed on a second front."

He was staring so resignedly at the gravy on his plate that he didn't notice she'd stopped nibbling her bread until she said, "You zink I am mizerable?"

He looked up, a little shocked to see her blue eyes fixed on his face. "Well…," he hedged, a bit taken aback by having to explain himself. "Well… Yes, actually. I always get the feeling that you look at the things around you and think it's all just a little too dirty for your taste. A little too low key." He sighed and leaned back in his chair, rubbing the bridge of his nose. His head was aching for some reason. "Don't ask me why it bothers me so much, but it does. I guess I keep… trying to help you acclimate. It's disheartening that I can't even figure out what to feed you."

He closed his eyes and let his head rest against the back of his ladder-back chair. The apartment wasn't a big one -- only one bedroom, and a bathroom the size of a matchbox -- and what furniture he had was fairly sparse and utilitarian. He'd had to leave most of his furnishings in Egypt, for his replacement Curse Breaker. He felt a twinge of jealousy for the person, whoever he or she was, and wondered what they were doing right now. Anything would have been better than sitting in this kitchen with a tetchy French quarter-veela and Death Eaters on the doorstep. At least in Egypt he'd felt… pro-active.

Cool fingers on his temples made him open his eyes. Fleur had gotten out of her chair and rounded the table, and was now delicately massaging his temples. "I am zorry," she said quietly, her fingers making slow, soothing circles against his skin. "I do not mean to zeem zo… downhearted." She gave him an apologetic smile. "It iz nuzzing you 'ave or 'ave not done. I am… jus' worried. About _mère_ and _père_, and liddle Gabrielle…" Her voice trailed off as her eyes went distant, carrying her back, Bill assumed, to her home across the Channel. After a moment, however, her gaze cleared and she looked down at him again, smiling gently. "You 'ave been a great 'elp," she reassured him. "You 'ave 'elped me forget to worry. I cannot zank you enuff for zat."

Bill smiled faintly and reached up to touch her wrist with one hand. "Thanks."

Her responding smile was brilliantly white. "_Mon plaisir_," she murmured with a nod.

Her touch was remarkably soothing. Bill wanted to tell her to step away, that he was fine now, but he didn't have the guts to give up those delicate, butterfly caresses, and ended up closing his eyes instead. Soon, her massaging went from simply rubbing his temples to running her fingers into his hair and kneading his scalp. Lightning bolts of enjoyment fired in Bill's limbic system, and it wasn't until he heard Fleur giggle that he realized he was whimpering happily.

"It 'as been a long time since you 'ave 'ad a woman do zis for you, _oui_?" Fleur asked, still giggling impishly.

Bill could already hear Fred and George laughing hysterically if they ever found out about this; Bill, the rugged Curse Breaker, falling prey to this woman's soft caresses. Charlie would say his animal magnetism had been staunched like a leaky dam in Holland. Even Ron would probably make a crack or two about the whole situation. His reputation as a debonair, chivalrous rake was teetering on a knife's edge right now.

"A while," he conceded, opening his eyes to look up into her smiling face. "Not since Egypt."

"Over a year?" She sounded surprised.

"Well…" He sighed and sat up, refusing to moan as her fingers slid from his hair with the motion. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. "Things have been a bit… busy."

"Wiz ze Order?"

"Among other-" He froze, then spun in his chair and stared at her, wide-eyed. "What did you say?"

Fleur tilted her head to the side. "I asked if ze Order 'as been keeping you zo buzy," she answered, her eyes soft. "I imagine it must be very 'ard, saving ze world, _oui_?"

For a minute, Bill didn't know what to say. All he could do was work his jaw like a fish out of water. "How do you know about the Order…!" he finally managed to sputter.

Fleur chuckled and touched his cheek. "Men are all ze same," she said with a smile, running her thumb over his cheekbone. "You talk in your sleep."

"B…But…"

"Remember? At New Year's? When ze snow wuz too deep and ze wind too 'ard for me to return to my _appartement_, and you said I could stay 'ere? You slept on ze couch?" Bill nodded, and Fleur continued. "You were already asleep when I got ready for bed." She smiled fondly. "You looked zo sweet, curled up on ze couch." Her smile faded a little. "But you were muttering and mumbling and I knew you were 'aving a nightmare. I wuz going to wake you, and I wuz about to, when I 'eard what you were saying. Somezing about ze Order, and ze Dark Lord, and your _père_." She stroked his hair. "I zink it was your fazzer zat 'ad you zo worried. Ze attack on 'im wuz still zo recent…" She sighed. "I touched your arm, like zis," she tenderly ran her hand down his arm, from shoulder to elbow, "and said to myself, if you woke up, I would tell you you 'ad been 'aving a nightmare, but if you did not, I would leave you to sleep." Her smile grew again. "You quieted as soon as I touched you. Like you 'ad been waiting for someone to do jus' zat. So I let you sleep, and I remembered what you said. Ze Order and ze Dark Lord. I knew you would not work for You-Know-'Oo, so I decided ze Order must be somezing working against 'im." She tilted her head again. "Am I right?"

Bill didn't answer for a second. "That's an awful lot to deduce from a few muttered words spoken in a nightmare," he murmured, staring at her.

Fleur shrugged. "I 'ave always been good at reading men," she told him candidly. "Zat is 'ow I knew you were not working for 'E-'Oo-Must-Not-Be-Named. You do not 'ave ze eyes of a _Mangeur De la Mort_."

"A what?"

"A Dez Eater."

"Oh…" He swallowed, and stood up, walking away from the table and staring blankly at the clock on his mantelpiece. It had been broken during the trip back to England from Egypt, and the hour hand never moved off twelve, making it right only two hours out of the day. Right now it read 12:24. "That was a very dangerous assumption to make, Fleur. I could have been under the _Imperius_ curse and you would never have known. What if I'd woken up and killed you?"

"I knew you would not."

"I told you, dangerous assumptions."

"I wuz right, _oui_?"

"That doesn't matter." An unexpected anger was boiling up inside him, and he whirled around to face her, eyes flashing. "This isn't a normal world anymore, Fleur. We can't start imagining that we know everyone like we used to! We can't pretend that nothing's happened and everything's hunky dory. You-Know-Who is back, and that means danger. That means secrets, and lies, and powerful people doing terrible things, because they have to, because they want to, because they're made to. That means that I'm as much a danger as Lucius Malfoy, Fleur. All of us are." He shook his head firmly. "We can't take chances like the ones you took. We can't afford to."

Fleur gazed at him silently. It made Bill uncomfortable, to be under the calm scrutiny of those cool blue eyes. He found himself wishing she'd yell at him, rail at him, do anything but watch him with such quiet tranquility.

"I understand, Bill," she finally murmured, taking a step towards him. For some inexplicable reason, he took a step back in response. Fleur seemed undeterred, and took another step forward. "Do you zink I 'ave forgotten somehow zat ze world 'as changed? Do you zink I 'ave forgotten for _un moment_ zat any day, I may get out of bed and never come back?" She nodded. "_Oui_, I know zis, I know zis and I understand. I am not naive, Bill. But naiveté and acceptance are two VERY different zings. Naiveté would mean zat I look at ze world and zee nuzzing 'as changed. Acceptance means I zee ze changes and must learn 'ow to live wiz zem."

She smiled and moved closer, gliding gracefully across his threadbare Persian rug until she came to a stop a hand's width from his chest. Gazing up into his eyes, she murmured, "And if zat means I must die by ze 'ands of a friend, zen zo be it. If You-Know-'Oo would choose, for zome _raison_, to kill me, zen I 'ope 'e does it wiz one of _mes amis_. Becuz zen I would know zat I 'ad friends 'oo loved me zo much, zey could be used as a weapon. Do you know 'ow much zat means to me? To know zat zere would be people 'oo cared zat much for me? I 'ave never 'ad friends like zat -- never in all my twenty years."

Bill swallowed. "That's a sad way to think, Fleur," he murmured. "To think that the only way you could prove you had friends would be to be killed by them."

"Not 'ze only way. But **A** way. A far 'appier zought, I zink, when you are about to die, zen to zink you are about to die alone."

Bill just stared at her for a minute, then laughed softly, breaking the tension of the moment. "You are one of a kind, Fleur," he told her affectionately, idly taking her hand and squeezing. "Absolutely one of a kind."

The blush that suffused her cheeks was a pretty shade of pink, especially in the waning light of the failing day that streaked through his living room window, painting the apartment shades of fire orange, phone booth scarlet, and moon shadow violet. He loved looking at her at this time of day, when all her pale beauty was suddenly drenched in all the richest colors of the rainbow, making her iridescent, like a dragonfly's wings. He loved looking at her, period. Perhaps that was why he enjoyed arguing with her so much, like their little squabble over dinner; it stretched out their conversations and kept her from leaving too soon.

"Bill?"

Her voice roused him from his self-induced reverie, and he forced his eyes to focus. "Hmm?"

She kissed him. He didn't even see it coming, it came so fast. One moment he was gazing into her soft blue eyes, and the next it was all he could do to keep from falling over under the onslaught of her supple pink lips. The kiss wasn't hard -- far from it -- but there was something beneath the slow ardor that made his heart speed up and had his hands clutching at the back of her form fitting sundress; a blue creation that perfectly matched her eyes.

When they finally separated, both were gasping for air. "That… That was…," Bill panted.

"Unexpected…?" she filled in breathlessly.

"That would be a word, yes…"

A wicked grin tugged at her lips. "But enjoyable?"

He gave her a _You have to ASK?_ look, before diving in to capture her lips with his own once again.

Bill knew veela kisses were special things, and Fleur was no exception. When they separated a minute later, he found a soothing, relaxing lassitude had settled over his body like a warm blanket. A foolish grin played on his lips as he cradled her face between his palms, pressing their foreheads together.

"You look like zee cat zat got zee cream," Fleur giggled, resting her delicate hands on his forearms.

"You are pretty tasty," he agreed, laughing when she snorted and swatted his hip.

"You are an 'orrid Breetish oaf," she snapped, eyes twinkling.

"Then why did you kiss me?" He nuzzled her forehead and dropped a soft kiss on the tip of her nose.

A soft sigh brushed across his chin. "Becoz you alwayz zeem zo mizerable, _mon_ Bill," she murmured, echoing his words from earlier as she moved closer to tuck her head under his chin. "I do not like zose I love to be mizerable."

"Love, eh?" Bill asked, arching an eyebrow as he wrapped his arms soothingly around her waist.

"_Oui_."

"I say."

"Do not get a large 'ead from zis."

"_Moi_?"

She laughed quietly against his chest and he felt her kiss his throat before settling down again. "No need to speak in _Français_, _mon amour_. You are, after all, _mon_ eenglish teacher, _oui_?"

Bill rested his cheek atop her silky hair and closed his eyes. This was a bad idea. The world was in chaos. As Fleur had said earlier, either of them could wake up one morning and be dead before evening came again. Falling in love was just inviting pain; worry, anxiety, jealousy, fear… Did he need all of these on top of what he was already feeling? Did she?

But Fleur smelled like mild soap and lavender water, and her arms were warm around him. He hadn't been this comfortable since his last year at Hogwarts.

Smiling, Bill cuddled her against his chest, sighing quietly as he felt her slender body shuffle closer. "Tell you what," he murmured, rubbing her back. "We'll teach each other."

"_Oui_," Fleur agreed, sounding drowsy. "I would like zat."

"How do you say _I love you_ in French again?"

"_Je t'aime_."

"Fleur?"

"_Oui_?"

"_Je t'aime_."

She laughed softly against his chest, and Bill decided the world and all its dangers could just go hang, because nothing beat being in love; not even the fear of losing it.

**THE END**


End file.
